


The Exhumation of Hannibal Lecter

by demonmeka



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonmeka/pseuds/demonmeka
Summary: Will Graham travels in search of a man he knows little of, in hopes of finding something of which he is not sure.





	1. Chapter One

Will sat alone towards the back of the train car, just 4 other people sat in there with him. he stared at the passing snowstorm, lost inside his own head. the other people in the car were not a concern of his. despite his reputation of instability, people were drawn to him for help. desperation leads to more desperation. Will was good at his job, he was pushing his entire field forward. he understood criminals better than they did themselves. And still he was an outcast.  
When he was home, Will lived in the woods in rural Virginia. Wolf Trap was as quiet as he needed it to be. room for his dogs and his thoughts that threatened to drown him. the current scenery was similarly isolating. ice and snow battered the windows and the trees, not so gently rocking the car. working for the fbi had lead will to many places and yet none quite as strange as the hills in the distant countrysides of eastern Europe.  
Jack crawford had told him to find this man, Dr. Lecter, a man who had recently been in the states on a visit, and who’s presence had coincided with several deaths. “Go and see what he knows,” Jack had said him. At this point the FBI was looking at Lecter not as a suspect, but as someone who simply may know something. Will was looking at him differently. He had seen the murders, re-lived them through his telepathy- as Jack called it- and seen the same man. He had seen the hollow eyes with their dim glow. He knew the guilt. He knew it was Lecter.  
The deaths in question were strange. They were both disappearances and murders in a way. The people who had been killed were gone for months and then one day appeared, displayed together like a sculpture. The men and women killed had all attended the same important state function earlier in the year, and it was assumed that was the connection between them. From there the FBI had narrowed down a list of important people to investigate and Lecter was on that list.  
The train he had taken started its journey in the capital, where he had stayed and spoken to law enforcement. He had a hard time communicating to begin with, even before their poor grasp on english. Will was quiet, reserved, and not accustomed to formalities. The customs here were not strange by any means, but to Will they were abrasive. He preferred the sort of conversation that was straightforward and quick. Something he and Jack had come to expect from one another.  
As his train moved through the mountains, higher and higher into the peaks and deeper and deeper into the wilderness, Will began to feel calm. His affinity for solitude lended itself to this environment. Even the storm was calming. The isolation of cold was a comfort. Soon they would be arriving at their destination, a small town that Will could barely pronounce and could most certainly not spell. It was large enough for the national rail service to stop there, yet small enough to only have one bar. A quaint place that will could see himself enjoying.  
He began to gather himself, his belongings, and his thoughts as the train slowed to a stop. A few other people in the cars behind his filed forward. Some of them had large trunks and cases- will had a small bag. He hadn’t planned on staying more than a few weeks and he was a particularly stingy packer. Socks, underwear, and a few good suits were all he needed as far as clothes were concerned. The rest of the space was taken up by notebooks and journals.  
As the whistle blew, Will began to walk from the row he was in, making his way to the door. The cold air was seeping in from the outside. The winters in Virginia were mild compared to farther north and yet they had prepared him somewhat for the weather he would encounter. Lithuania was farther away than he was used to traveling, sure, but it felt familiar. The cold, the solitude, it felt like a hand over his eyes. Keeping him locked away and the rest of the world at a distance. Pushing back on their vigilant watch.

The streets in town were icy, packed snow, that had been tamped down by the heels of all those who had passed over. Dim candles and oil lamps lit the village, a gold gleam among the harsh northern wilderness. From his notes and directions he had received, Lecter’s home was deep into the woods, north of the town. For tonite, he would stay in the lodge near the train station, then hire a carriage to take him to the homestead.  
Will took his time reaching the lodge, enjoying the quiet night and frozen air. The bag he packed hung around his shoulders and he tucked his hands into his pockets for warmth. A deep wind was pushing him to head inside, and the lodge was barely a block away. Warm, smokey air greeted him inside, the smell of burning wood and whiskey and cooked meats. Only two or three people sat in the lobby, and the dining room adjacent was nearly as empty. The snow on his shoes slipped away and he made his way to the desk.  
“Er, I had made a reservation for a room here? I had phoned yesterday. Should be under the last name Graham?” The woman sat behind the desk looked up. She had been reading a book and not caught what he had said. And even still, a look of familiarity crossed her face. “Oh! You’re Mr. Graham. Don’t worry about any verification or the likes, we get so few people here, it’s not like back from where you hail.” Will was surprised by her english. The men in the capital seemed to not grasp what he was saying at any point, but she seemed to converse just fine.  
“Ah, alright. If you wouldn’t mind, could you have some food sent to my room?” She nodded, and he thought to ask her name, but decided to refrain from conversation as much as possible.  
“Room 5, it will be on the right.”

The lobby was the great room, and it's stairs were in the center, a great oak staircase that lead to the rooms above. Will climbed up and made his way down the hall to his room, the whole way staring down to a large window at the end of the hall. The snow flew past and the wind whistled in. He stepped inside, set his bag down on the small desk, and sat down on the bed. Moments passed before a knock at the door. He stood and opened it a crack, peering into the hall. “Oh, thank you,” he said, seeing a staffer standing in front of him, holding a plate of food. Some assortment of sausage, cooked potatoes, beans, and bread. He took the plate, nodded, and shut the door. Conversation, not a strong suit.  
With great solitude he lived his life, not something he saw as unwelcome, but it was his situation nonetheless. Will was a quiet man, yet he longed for someone to converse with. The superficial was what he struggled with. Deep connection and strong emotion was not unwelcome at all. He loved to feel, even what could be seen as uncomfortable and unwanted feelings. Emotion was something he longed for, deep down. The uncontrollable feeling of feeling.  
He sat by the window, placed his food on the table and stared out the window for a moment, just long enough to catch something moving in the woods beyond the lodge. A long, tall figure stood, and then slipped between the trees, leaving steam or smoke where it had stood. The snow seemed to have melted beneath it. Will blinked, his brow furrowed, his mind rushing to find logic. And as he cleared his mind and his eyes, the visage vanished, leaving nothing but the white and the dark behind. As he finished his dinner, he began to wonder what sort of things lived out in the woods, what could be waiting for him. 

The night came and went, and the morning slid into being, bringing with it nothing new, perhaps more light, but that was something to be debated. To Will it seemed just as dark, just as dour. He had gathered his belongings and found a man to take him to the estate. Frank, had been his name. He had a small carriage and he was planning a visit to a farm along the same path. However, Lecter’s home was a half a days journey and the farm just a few hours from the town. He agreed, on the basis of money alone. Something Will could understand. This town was rich in life but not in currency.  
Will dozed off to the gentle rocking of the carriage, the snow had calmed a bit, and the horses were happy to be out and able to move. They arrived at the farm, a large clearing in the woods with a homely barn and cabin. He thought of his home, and the solitude of both. As the day wore on, the little light that had been afforded to them was leached away by the oncoming night. “About an hour,” hollered Frank, when asked by Will how long until they reached the estate.  
Something under his skin prickled. Excitement, a rapid pulse. He did feel a bit of unease, but something about the photos of Lecter he had seen, and the vision of him killing, something made him feel almost delirious. He had no idea what he intended to do here, and he knew that he should see Lecter as dangerous. He had seen him kill. And yet. 

The carriage rounded a mountain pass, and ascended further, crawling it's way to the gates of Lecter’s home. Will could feel himself growing anxious. The castle seemed to grow from beneath the earth. It's tall pillars stretching up and the dark, naked trees covered the sides, trying to hide it from sight. But Will could see it. He could see the man somewhere deep inside, he was hiding. Will knew he was there to unearth Lecter, to drag him out of this deep solitude he could see them both understanding. In order to catch him, he had to exhume him. 

He and Frank passed between the gate posts, he shivered thinking how long this place had stood. The long driveway lead to a side entrance and an overhang to shelter guests from the elements, and for that Will was thankful. The front of this monolith was a frankly horrific number of stairs, ones that had sat uncovered for who knows how long, and ones that were now completely encased in ice. As Frank pulled beneath the overhang, he looked back at Will with a gaze of apprehension, as if to say he knew that something horrid lie in wait for him.  
There was nothing in between them now, just a door. Soon Will would be face to face with something more closely related to the devil than any other man. And something made him smile. A challenge? No, he was not that superficial. It was deeper than that. A longing for something. And he could not quite place it.


	2. Chapter Two

Wills tentative first steps from the carriage was like learning to walk again. The wind, which had seemed a comfort in the golden, snow globe world of the village, now felt like an entire ocean collapsing onto him. His hair, long and curled from melted snow, whipped fervently around his wind-chapped face. As he made his way towards the door, looking back to Frank, he looked an explorer in the unforged wilds. He felt this was true in a way, he was going into an unknown, a brave new world.   
A smaller set of stone steps led to the entrance they had arrived at. One of many, Will supposed. He climbed them with a sense of intention and excitement that threatened to boil over into panic. The door was beautiful, a strange thought to have about a door, but it was. The small window was intricate, gold and red and black glass that formed a crest, something Will felt was pompous, and yet. His hand reached for the pull chain and he felt the cold metal bar beneath his hands. From deep within the castle a rumble rung out and a moment or so passed. Will leaned, only slightly, as if to hear the fall of feet on stone inside. A minute passed, a light bloomed from behind the stained glass, and the door began to open.   
A man, if he was a man at all, stood before him. His long, graceful body was clothed in dark red. He was wrapped in something that looked to be fit for an old world god. He had a look in his eyes of someone who had just heard a joke, and somehow that did not upset Will, instead it was infinitely refreshing. His face was long and hollow, but it had a deep glow to it. He smiled with crooked teeth and bowed his head slightly. “Will Graham. I see you decided to schedule your trip in the dead of winter. Not the safest time to be traveling these hills.”  
Will’s smile, a somewhat crooked thing itself, bloomed across his face. It was one born of no facade, and there was something wicked about it. “Doctor Lecter,” he nodded and continued to drawl, “I heard so much of you, I just had to see you for myself.” And a silence fell between them for a moment as it seemed they both regarded one another.   
“You must come in, and invite your driver, he looks... cold,” mused Lecter. Will turned to see Frank, seated and watching, out in the cold. Will thought for a moment, noting the lowering sun and rising chill to the air.   
“Perhaps he can stay the night as well? Then he can head back to town in the morning,” he seemed to agree with Lecter. Hannibal nodded in a formal yet warm way, something that seemed a falsehood, and gestured to Will to make his arrangements with the man. Will trotted out along the driveway to Frank who, despite the respite from the snow, still looked worse for wear. The weather was tiring all in all.   
“Frank, Dr. Lecter asks if you wouldn’t want to stay the night here? The sun is almost gone, it's probably not safe,” Will said, the last word cutting through his teeth with the way he spoke, his eyes never able to keep someone's gaze, if they ever met it at all. Frank, the portly little man, nodded. He seemed a bit anxious to return home, perhaps the looming castle felt foreboding, as if to suggest something else lying in wait. All the same, Will knew that Frank was nervous about the trek back. The pay was what had convinced him in the first place. Somewhere inside him Will knew to be ashamed of the way he had goded this man into the work, but he needed to see Lecter, and that could not wait.   
As the two of them made their way into the entry hall, Will fell short of words, the circular room was seemingly carved entirely from dark blackish green marble, something that left a sickly tinge to everything. He felt as though he had entered a dungeon from an old story he had read as a child. It felt nostalgic in the most uncomfortable way. Dr. Lecter was gone from the room when they returned, leaving the place quiet and hollow. From somewhere beyond the rightmost doorway he could hear noises, someone moving about, and he assumed Lecter was the one to blame, but as he turned his head back to Frank, just beyond the shorter mans head he could see Lecter.   
“I see you have your things. I will show you to your rooms, then we will have supper.” Dr. Lecter led them up to the long corridor of guest rooms, and he ushered Will into a room laiden in green cloth. Deep olive green curtains covered the windows and the canopied bed. It felt warm, inviting. A small fireplace sat opposite the bed, with two chairs sat beside one another. He felt a sense of calm wash over him. Perhaps the smell of woodsmoke was enough to set him at ease. Lecter ushered Frank out and closed the door behind him.   
Will wondered to himself where Frank would stay, and if this would be the most extravagant place he would ever find himself. Some more thoughts began to run through his mind and before they slipped away he decided to sit at the small desk and write about his journey so far, about the cold and the train and the way he felt he was meant to be here.   
After a long while, and having been caught up in his own writing, Will realized he had not heard from the doctor or his traveling companion in some time. He gently pushed on the door to the hallway, unsure of his own feelings of unease, and yet he did not question them. He trusted his own instincts. Instinct was a valuable tool, something to never be doubted. As his head poked past the door frame, he looked into a darkened, empty hall. One that felt considerably more sinister than when he had arrived.   
Will moved with some conviction down the long corridor, looking for a sign of where Frank could have been deposited. Anything, a light beneath a door, a door ajar, the sound of movement. And yet it all felt undisturbed. As if this castle had never been used at all.  
From back beyond the hall, farther back, towards the entryway, he heard Dr. Lecter’s voice, distant but clear, amplified by the cold stone walls, “Safe travels, and I will tell Mr. Graham that you have left.” Was Frank leaving? Had he decided he needed to return. Will could feel himself becoming panicked. Why had Frank said nothing? And as he began to walk hurriedly down the hall, he could hear the door shutting. He took off in a jog. As he rounded the passaged to the front hall, he saw Lecter there, waiting for him. Will hurried down the steps in time to see Franklin's carriage careen around the bend and out the front gate.   
“Would you care to join me for dinner tonight? Unfortunately it is not something quite as spectacular as I would hope to share with a new friend, but nonetheless, something I know you will enjoy,” he smiled. His teeth always peeked out, like fangs. He was a wolf, Will was sure. Out among the sheep and feasting while the shepherds sleep.   
“Yes, I’ll join you...” There was something final about agreeing to this. He held Dr. Lecter’s gaze for several moments, neither one of them speaking. In a moment, seemingly realizing that he had made himself vulnerable, Will looked away, shaken. Hannibal smiled, a soft curl of his lips. “Franklin decided to leave?” He knew the answer, of course, but the reason why he was confused about.   
“Yes, he mentioned his wife. Seemed a bit spooked. I can recommend a more reliable driver next time,” and he turned to Will, smirking. Dr. Lecter was standing right next to him, close enough to see his pores, his lashes. Will peered past him, not wanting to make eye contact again, as the last time had been somewhat jarring. Something about Lecter’s eyes made him feel seen in a particularly horrifying way. Lecter leaned back, pausing to look over Will, as if examining a sick animal. Even this made him feel strange.   
After a moment he smiled, and turned to head deeper into the house. “My dear Will, we will eat on the hour. The dining room is down this hall and to the left,” he said, gesturing to the long hall that stretched past him. Will nodded. “In the meantime, why don’t you wait in the library,” and Lecter guided him down the hall on the other side of the entryway, past several rooms lit only by lamplight, to a tall dark oak door that opened into a cozy, but large room. The walls were packed with books, some looking to be older than the very building itself. “Make yourself at home.”   
Will nodded, unsure, and watched as Hannibal slipped through the doorway and closed it again, almost completely silent. He wandered past the shelves, not even daring to touch some of the books he saw, but he found one that peaked his interest. The Secret of Second Mind, something Will had never heard of. Gently, as if he might crush the book between his fingers, he pulled the old book from the shelf. The leather was aged, clearly, but it had been well preserved. Loved, cared for.   
Besides the gold embossed title, there was a small symbol, not a crest which would have made sense. This was an intricate rune, one Will knew nothing about. With the lightest touch he could bare, he opened the cover, but found the binding to be well kept. A page at the front showed an illustration of a figure, hovered above a body on the ground, it's arms outstretched to the heavens. Most of it was an abstraction of black fabric, but it's face was real, gaunt, and grey. The eyes were yellowed and it's mouth was parted, the tongue falling to the side. It looked like an animal. But at the same time too much like a man. Will found himself tracing the image with his hand, entranced by the painting.   
He didn’t know how long he had been standing there when the sudden ringing of a bell came to his ears. Will nearly dropped the book as he looked up, seeing one of the bells next to the door ringing. Time to eat.


End file.
